


Bitter Heart

by Zinneth (Zoya_Zalan)



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, First Time, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, My Slashy Valentine, My Slashy Valentine 2015
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-01
Updated: 2015-02-01
Packaged: 2018-03-10 01:59:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3272597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoya_Zalan/pseuds/Zinneth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trust. Such a simple word, but for one who’s been hurt, it represents the deepest of chasms between lonely resignation and immeasurable joy.</p>
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    <a href="http://imgbox.com/7sWWx289">
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	Bitter Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lotrangel17](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lotrangel17/gifts).



> This story is my response to the following My Slashy Valentine prompt:
> 
> **~ * ~*~**  
>  **Requested pairing** = I have three pairings that I like to read; Legolas/Eomer, Glorfindel/Erestor and Legolas/Elrond - I'm open to any of those pairings.
> 
> **Story elements** = the beginning of a relationship - either getting there or just there. a fight or battle scene but the partners must both be strong and capable of fighting/winning. Bonus if someone gets a minor injury and the other cares for them and kissing ensues. feel free to write something else if the prompt I gave doesn't speak to you. I'm really open to any story elements :)
> 
> **Do NOT include** = I like to think I'm open to anything as long as it has a happy ending.  
>  **~ * ~*~**
> 
> **Disclaimer** : J.R.R. Tolkien et al own all things related to the wonderful characters and lands of Middle Earth; I’m just borrowing. No copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> **Author’s Note** : This is my first foray into the LOTR realm. I’m also a Tolkien-verse fledgling, so I plead creative liberty for any canon inconsistencies or botched Sindarin/Quenya. With any luck, the slashy goodness will override all glaring errors. Language translations can be found at the end of the story.
> 
> **Acknowledgements** : Many thanks to my betae, Carol and Elensari, for their insightful comments and suggestions. All mistakes in the final draft are mine alone.
> 
> I hope you enjoy your gift, lotrangel17!

****

~ * ~ * ~

It was only a soft _thwang_ , hardly louder than a whisper and so easily lost in Narbeleth’s mournful winds, yet despite all his sharply honed senses, Glorfindel still registered its significance a half-second too late. His eyes widened in shock when Erestor crumpled on his steed, clutching at his left arm. Asfaloth reared, nostrils flaring, just as a small group of Melkor’s ill-begotten children stormed the clearing, their weapons at the ready.

“Yrch!” Glorfindel bellowed, dismounting and drawing his sword all at once. His body engaged without conscious thought, a graceful warrior’s dance… slashing, parrying, dodging… Pools of black blood painted a macabre portrait around the soon lifeless bodies that fell, one by one. Asfaloth added powerful hooves and a relentless spirit to the defensive stance, and together they did their best to shelter their wounded companion. Glorfindel risked a quick glance behind him, pleased to see Dúroch’s hindquarters retreating into a thicket. Good. This band of orcs, though skilled, seemed to lack strategic direction. So long as their attention remained focused on him and Asfaloth, Erestor should be safe. 

The skirmish continued for many long minutes, the clash of steel rising above all other noise. Glorfindel was relentless in his pursuit of victory, ages of experience offering him a distinct advantage. He whirled, overpowering the last of the melee fighters with a vicious uppercut that left the orc’s face a bloody cleft. The creature sank to its knees with a horrid gurgle before collapsing in a wretched heap. Glorfindel paused a moment, inhaling deeply, his mind back-tracing the trajectory of the arrow that had felled his companion. If the archer hadn’t already fled, his life would end very shortly.

Asfaloth’s panicked whinny assaulted his ears the very same instant he heard the muffled snap of a twig beneath heavy boots. By the time Glorfindel had spun around, the massive creature’s sword was already in motion, a wide and vigorous arc meant to cleave him clean through. There was no time to react, no time to breathe or hope or implore Eru himself for mercy. Dampening the wellspring of regret that was threatening to burst in his heart, Glorfindel closed his eyes, resigned.

A flutter of displaced air and the resounding clang of metal on metal startled him a fraction of a second later. When his eyes flew back open, he beheld the orc’s weapon, miraculously stopped mid-swing by the appearance of another sword held by… Erestor? Glorfindel gaped at the counsellor, who unwaveringly kept the enemy’s weapon at bay a mere finger’s width from his neck with all the ease of a practiced warrior. The momentary diversion afforded him the chance to step back out of range, but before he could even ready his weapon, Erestor executed a deft bind and forced the startled orc’s sword down with a burst of unexpected strength. Disengaging, he then twisted round, fast as a silverfish, his final upward swing lopping its head off.

As soon as what was left of the orc collapsed, Erestor staggered, and Glorfindel rushed forward to steady him. “By the Valar… I owe you my life, Counsellor.”

Erestor shrugged out of his grasp. “Fancy that,” he spat with his usual venom. “Me, saving the mighty Balrog Slayer.”

“I’m certain stranger things have happened. Somewhere…” Glorfindel jested, grinning.

Tossing aside the weapon he’d obviously pilfered off a dead orc, Erestor ignored the quip and told him, “The one who clipped me has been dispatched. There were no others lying in wait that I could see. We should be on our way. We’re but a half-day’s journey from the Valley — and a hot meal.”

“That would be unwise.”

Erestor turned towards him, glaring. “So was assigning the two of us to the same mission, but that came to pass nonetheless.”

“An edict from Lord Elrond is hardly on par with a sensible decision made in the field,” Glorfindel said, reaching up to tame the locks of his golden hair that had been captured by the chill breeze. He gestured towards the highest peaks of the Misty Mountains behind them. “’Tis an angry wind that blows, heavy with the scent of mizzle. An early twilight will shortly be upon us, and you, my friend, are injured. We need to find shelter.”

“I shall tend to myself along the way. Besides, it’s just a graze,” Erestor argued, though the manner in which he was holding his left arm easily belied his words.

“And likely poisoned,” Glorfindel countered. “There is a way station less than a league from here. We should make haste in that direction before the sky opens up.”

Erestor glanced at the darkness of the approaching clouds. “We tarried too long in Mirkwood.”

Whistling for the horses, Glorfindel said, “Nay. I would wager Rhîw is simply trying to extend his icy tendrils a bit early this year. Come, let us move. Are you able?”

“Of course I am able!”

Glorfindel watched the counsellor struggle proudly, until he’d finally pulled himself up onto his steed. “I shall tend that wound swiftly on arrival,” he told Erestor, who glowered but chose to remain silent.

They traveled as fast as possible under the circumstances, with Glorfindel diligently monitoring his companion while remaining alert for any further trouble. Erestor’s face had taken on a feverish sheen, though it seemed to do little to dampen his unpleasant demeanor. Glorfindel took in stride any verbal barbs tossed his way, grateful that the counsellor was still conscious and coherent.

By the time they’d reached the way station, the deluge had already begun. Glorfindel dismounted, keeping a wary eye on Erestor, who had begun to waver, pain clearly etched into his features. He whispered instructions to Asfaloth, and then moved to help his companion down. Erestor made no protest at all — a worrisome development. He left the counsellor leaning against his steed while he hurried to untangle the foliage that covered the hidden entrance to a particularly large prominence. They were still in the foothills of the mountains, the terrain a mixture of rocky outcroppings and greenery. Centuries of careful tending had created a natural barrier of vines and brambles that protected the retreat, used by Elven travelers and Imladris sentinels alike.

Glorfindel swore under his breath. The rain had made the plants slippery. He wound up tearing several of the vines loose, something he was loath to do, but it was imperative that they get inside as soon as possible. Pulling back the intricate living curtain, he immediately felt around the base of the large boulder behind it for the release mechanism. On hearing the telltale click, Glorfindel used all his strength to shove the rock sideways on hidden rails, pushing until there was enough space for entry. Asfaloth stepped forward and disappeared into the darkness. A few moments later, the horse nickered, letting him know the station hadn’t been compromised in any way.

Glorfindel returned to Erestor then, draping one of the counsellor’s arms around his shoulder as a brace. He then slapped Dúroch’s flank gently, waiting until the dark steed had followed Asfaloth’s trail before maneuvering the two of them just inside the entrance.

“Can you stand?” he asked Erestor. The counsellor nodded, leaning back against the roughly hewn wall.

Glorfindel wasted no time; it was growing darker outside by the minute. He found a tinderbox and candle in a small nearby recess, and set about adding some light to their surroundings. Once he’d lit the candle — as well as a nearby hanging lantern — he pulled the vines back into place and used several chiseled handholds on the backside of the boulder to shift it into place, thereby sealing the shelter. They were perfectly safe here. Even if an enemy was able to find and open the entrance to this place, the noise would alert them well before anyone could set foot inside.

Taking care to place the extinguished candle back into the recess, Glorfindel took the lantern in hand and helped Erestor down the wide stone stairs behind them. The gentle sound of trickling water surrounded them as they went, and when they reached the bottom, Glorfindel lit a second lantern, securing both on the wall. The added light source illuminated the cavern nicely. There were no amenities here, but it was dry and warm… surprisingly so.

Erestor stared dubiously at the pool of dark water that lay just to their left. It was a good-sized spring whose surface swirled with lazy bubbles. “I’ve never been here before.”

“This is one of the older way stations, established shortly after Imladris’s gates were first raised. According to Elrond, the water has healing properties, though that,” Glorfindel nodded towards the counsellor’s injured arm, “will certainly require a bit more help.”

He realized quite suddenly that Erestor was shivering. “Here,” he offered, starting to remove the counsellor’s thick traveling cloak. “We need to get you out of these wet clothes and into the water.”

“I am perfectly capable of undressing myself,” Erestor hissed, stepping back out of his reach.

Glorfindel arched a brow. “You can barely stand, mellon nín.”

“I am fine. And I am not,” Erestor insisted wearily, “your friend.”

Biting back a smile, Glorfindel let him be, though he remained close by just in case. Erestor slowly peeled the layers off, tossing them onto a pile of rocks. He hesitated slightly before unlacing his hosen, eventually resigned to the fact that they too would need to come off. His attempt to remove them, however, proved too difficult a task for one whose equilibrium was compromised by weakness and fever. Glorfindel stepped in, kneeling, hands deftly pulling the sodden garment down and off while the counsellor’s fingers dug into his shoulder for support.

“I can hear the whisperings now,” Erestor mused, his tone laced with sarcasm, “all the tittering and misconstrued context and fingers pointed in my direction. ‘ _You’ll never guess who disrobed our Chief Counsellor…_ ’”

Glorfindel tossed the counsellor a playful grin, if only to distract himself from the exquisite beauty that was a thoroughly naked Erestor standing so very, very close. “All of Imladris would surely host a grand feast in honor of such an unprecedented event.”

“Your vile mockery is most unbecoming, _Lord_ Glorfindel.”

Chuckling, Glorfindel stood. “You know I am jesting, Counsellor. Your virtue is perfectly safe with me. Now let’s get you settled so I can tend to your wound.”

It was just a momentary glimmer, a subtle and unrecognizable emotion caught in the depths of Erestor’s dark eyes, but Glorfindel noticed it before the counsellor’s usual hard glare slipped back into place. And for some reason it gave him pause. Blinking, he searched Erestor’s face, but found nothing to help further define what he’d seen. Erestor finally looked away, focusing on the bubbling spring, and the awkward moment passed as quickly as it had come. Sighing, Glorfindel helped his companion into the water, pointing out a ledge where Erestor could sit and rest.

“I shall return shortly,” Glorfindel told him. “I need to fetch our haversacks.” Erestor nodded, leaning back against the wall of the pool.

The tall warrior moved swiftly, collecting their packs from the horses that were enjoying their respite in a large area on the primary level. Glorfindel left them with whispered promises of food and water as soon as Erestor was looked after. He returned to the spring and undressed before rummaging through his own haversack for the athelas leaves that were always kept on hand, along with a wooden mortar and pestle, a small towel, a and a long scrap of cloth. Setting the items next to the pool, Glorfindel eased his way down into the warm water, acutely aware of the intense gaze following his every move. He resisted the urge to grin. The Eldar, in general, weren’t modest beings, but he was hard pressed to recall a single instance before now when he and the counsellor had been unclothed in one another’s presence. Not that he minded the scrutiny, of course. Or the endearing flush that heated Erestor’s face…

Glorfindel made short work of examining his companion’s wound. It was indeed just a graze, not deep enough to bleed too heavily, but certainly sufficient for the poison to do its foul work. He used the mortar first as a cup to bathe the torn flesh, taking care to flush thoroughly despite the discomfort he knew it caused his companion. Then he gathered a small amount of the mineral-rich water in the bottom and added the athelas leaves, using the pestle to create a potent healing poultice. Very gently, he covered the wound with it, and then wrapped the affected area with the cloth to keep it in place.

Erestor let go of the breath he’d been holding. “Thank you,” he whispered.

“You’re very welcome,” Glorfindel replied, toweling the other’s arm dry. He glanced sideways at Erestor while he worked, the corner of his lips tugging upward. “I wasn’t aware you could wield a weapon sharper than your tongue, Counsellor.”

Erestor snorted. A long silence followed in which his gaze traveled around the cavern. Finally, he spoke, his voice distant and unusually flat. “I was a warrior once.”

Glorfindel’s brows rose in mild surprise. As long as he’d known the counsellor — the span of nearly a full age — he’d never shown any interest in weaponry or melee tactics, and yet given today’s demonstration, Erestor was apparently quite well versed in both. “I am intrigued. Do tell.”

The counsellor remained quiet for so long that Glorfindel paused, placing his wounded arm along the rim of the pool where it wouldn’t get wet. “Erestor?”

“It was a long time ago — another lifetime,” Erestor responded shortly, his usual churlishness reappearing. “Let it be.”

“As you wish,” Glorfindel yielded, sensing by the other’s dark expression that this was a line best left uncrossed. For now.

Instead, he set about rinsing the mortar and pestle, which he then set aside. Pushing off the wall, Glorfindel floated back into the deeper part of the spring, submerging himself several times and scrubbing away all the grime from their travels. A heated spring was such a rare luxury; there were none in Imladris. The communal and individual baths, as well as the sizable sunken pool rumored to be nestled somewhere in their Lord and Lady’s chambers, all needed to be warmed manually. And none of them had these delightful bubbles to massage careworn bodies.

After thoroughly cleansing himself, Glorfindel glanced back at his companion to be sure he was all right. What he saw made his heart clench. Erestor sat with shoulders slumped, staring blankly at the water before him, his entire bearing a study in utter dejection. He still appeared feverish, but Glorfindel suspected that played little part in this troubling shift of moods. Their previous conversation, so abruptly halted, niggled at the warrior. He knew better than to press the issue, but it had obviously struck a chord with Erestor, one whose resonance seemed to bring with it unwelcome and overwhelming memories. For that, Glorfindel felt much regret.

He swam closer, noting immediately that Erestor had made no effort to wash the day’s trials from his body. Smudges of dirt and orc blood still clung to his face and neck, and strands of his dark hair hung in damp, unruly tangles, the very antithesis of his usual tidy appearance. Saying not a word, Glorfindel made his way to the edge of the pool and reached for his haversack, sifting through its contents until he’d found another clean cloth. Then he glided to where Erestor was seated and began gently sponging the other’s skin.

Erestor glared fiercely at him, his mouth opening to deliver yet another stinging retort, but Glorfindel shushed him. “You are unwell, mellon nín. Please allow me this honor. It is the very least I can do for the one to whom I owe my life.”

Much to his surprise, the cousellor offered no further objection, though he quickly averted his gaze, his expression morphing into an inscrutable mask. Glorfindel continued with his task, grateful for the rare opportunity to be so close to the ellon he’d adored from afar for more than a millennium. Erestor was quite elusive and enigmatic — unapproachable in every sense of the word. Glorfindel had tried to win the counsellor’s affections on any number of occasions, only to be gifted with harsh words, hostile silences, or doors slammed in his face. He’d felt rather incompetent at first until realizing that Erestor behaved in a similar fashion towards everyone else. And he’d always wondered why…

Glorfindel set to work on the counsellor’s hair next, unweaving the plaits and using the mortar to drench the dark mane. Erestor obediently tilted his head backward, and even allowed Glorfindel to smooth away the tangles using his long fingers. That all changed when Glorfindel shifted his attention to Erestor’s face. Almost immediately, he was pinned by the counsellor’s intimidating stare, which tracked his every move. He ignored the scrutiny, calmly washing away all evidence of their unfortunate encounter earlier. It was an absolute joy to touch Erestor like this, to trace the line of his dark brow and cup his cheek, even if only for a few fleeting moments. The bridge of his elegant nose… his ears… and those achingly beautiful lips which his gaze chose to linger on, so full and perfect and so very, very kissable…

“Don’t even think about it,” Erestor warned.

How could he not? Glorfindel shifted his hand to cradle the counsellor’s chin. It was time for truth between them, whether or not the counsellor was amenable to such a conversation. “Would it really be such a calamity,” Glorfindel asked, “if we were to kiss? Or more?”

Erestor’s gaze hardened. “When Saelbeth declined your attentions, you let him be. Same with Orophin of Lórien.”

Glorfindel blinked in surprise. He’d always been quite discreet with his private affairs, and neither of those mentioned was in any way inclined towards gossip. How very interesting, then, that Erestor should even know of the conversations in question. “What you say is true, yes,” he confirmed, somewhat reluctantly.

“Yet you’ve pursued me relentlessly for centuries, despite my clear rejections,” Erestor continued. “Why do you persist?”

A soft smile made its way onto Glorfindel’s face. “’Tis a mystery, is it not?” He would have thought it perfectly clear after all this time.

“I do not appreciate being toyed with.”

Glorfindel shook his head. “I assure you that is not my intention.”

“Ah, but it is, really, isn’t it?” Erestor asked, yanking his chin away from Glorfindel’s gentle hold. “The one you stand absolutely no chance of bedding is simply too tempting to resist. You must add him to your list of conquests no matter what the cost.”

The conversation was quickly veering into rather unsettling territory, leaving Glorfindel feeling off-balance and a touch aggrieved. He had indeed pursued Erestor, but his reasons for doing so were hardly as callous or shallow as the counsellor believed them to be. “Do you honestly think me so heartless? Or so unbridled?”

“You’ve bedded most of Imladris. What else is one supposed to discern from that?”

Glorfindel shifted backward, astonished at the rancor in Erestor’s tone. “When I am lonely, I seek comfort,” he told the counsellor, uncertain why he even felt the need to defend himself. “I enjoy making love with trusted friends. ‘Tis a balm for both hröa and fëa.”

Erestor’s eyes widened, his expression twisting into an angry scowl. “Making love?” he spat. “Is that what you call it, this mindless rutting you engage in?”

“Mindless—?” Glorfindel wasn’t given the chance to finish his thought before Erestor continued his tirade, his voice gaining amplitude.

“You have absolutely no idea what love is, Glorfindel, none at all! What you speak of is not _making love_ ; it is debauchery! It is arrogant and disrespectful and self-serving above all else! Are you so very certain your partners are agreeable to that same level of informality? Have you considered their feelings at all?”

When he didn’t immediately respond, Erestor screamed at him, “HAVE YOU?!”

Glorfindel flinched, utterly dumbfounded by what he was hearing. Erestor’s whole body was shaking with rage, and the words… there was a world of hurt contained in them, and it was that alone that prevented him from verbally lashing out against such hurtful insinuations. “Erestor, I would never exploit those with whom I share my bed. Their trust and respect means a great deal to me, as does their comfort and pleasure.”

Pausing, Glorfindel studied the agitated ellon before him. Unlike others in Imladris, who seemed to accept Erestor’s cool demeanor without question, he’d always suspected something was not quite right. The Eldar were born into very loving families who, for the most part, lived in close-knit communities. Even those children who found themselves orphaned were fostered by other families who showered upon them the same love and attention given to their own progeny. It was simply not natural for one to mature into such an aloof adult with no interest in mingling with others, socially or romantically.

The silence that lay between them was charged with negative energy so tangible that Glorfindel could almost feel it crawling on his skin. Erestor’s ire was still plainly visible, and that bothered him deeply. “Have you ever heard of my wronging another in the way you suggest?” he ventured, gentling his tone so as not to provoke the counsellor further.

Erestor’s breathing, which had grown deep and ragged with his anger, began to settle. He broke eye contact with Glorfindel, glaring at the water instead. Long moments passed before his quiet words carried through the chamber. “I am weary,” was all he said.

After a moment’s hesitation, Glorfindel nodded. “Then you should rest.”

He watched as Erestor slowly exited the spring and began drying himself with a small towel procured from his haversack. Even the breathtaking beauty of the counsellor’s form couldn’t subdue the heaviness in Glorfindel’s heart. He should have been furious, or at the very least resentful, at being judged thusly by one who had never taken the time to know him, but all he felt was genuine sadness. Such an extreme emotional reaction could have only been caused by an equally extreme experience — obviously not a happy one.

Glorfindel remained silent as he swam to the edge of the spring and pulled himself out. He swiftly dried himself, keeping a close eye on Erestor while he dressed to be sure his strength wasn’t waning. Laying his own towel on one of the boulders beside the pool, Glorfindel padded over to a small alcove hidden in the shadows where he produced two large sacks that had been suspended on hooks to keep them clean and dry. He brought them into the ring of light given off by the lanterns and positioned them near their gear. Once on the floor, they flattened somewhat. At Erestor’s confused look, he explained, “Feathered pallets for our bedrolls. Not the most comfortable of mattresses, but they’re much better than bare ground. If you find a quill poking through, just… break it off.”

Mindful of the uncomfortable air that hung between them, Glorfindel didn’t dally. He quickly donned comfortable clothes, checked that Erestor was settling well enough in his makeshift bed, and then ascended the stairs to tend to the horses. When he returned a bit later, the first thing he noticed was how the counsellor had inched his pallet as close to the wall — and as far away from his own — as possible. Erestor lay facing away from him, curled into a ball with his bedroll cover drawn all the way up to his chin. He looked so very small. And vulnerable.

Sighing, Glorfindel dimmed both lanterns and then prepared his own bed. He savored a few bites of lembas bread before lying down. Unsure if Erestor had eaten, he’d briefly considered waking his companion to do so, but then thought better of it. The counsellor needed rest, and any interference on his part would surely be unwelcome. It had been a trying day for them both; it was best to let it end in peace.

Reverie proved to be as aloof as the esteemed counsellor himself, however. Glorfindel’s gaze never strayed from Erestor’s back, as though his vigilance would somehow reveal answers to all the questions perched at the very tip of his tongue. Minutes turned to hours, and still rest eluded him. At some point, very deep into the night, he noticed the counsellor had begun shifting about and rearranging his covers. Concerned that Erestor’s arm might be bothering him, he stayed very quiet and observed. The fidgeting continued for some time, in varying degrees, until Glorfindel witnessed something that absolutely broke his heart. Turning his face into the cushion his head rested upon, Erestor began to weep. There was no sound to speak of, but the manner in which his body shook left no doubt in the warrior’s mind.

There was no hesitation whatsoever — Gorfindel reached out and began rubbing the counsellor’s back in unspoken support. Erestor stiffened, a surprised intake of breath reaching the warrior’s ears, but then his body visibly deflated, as though there was simply no resistance left in him. When that happened, Glorfindel immediately got up and shifted his own pallet until it was touching his companion’s. When he lay back down, he curled up behind Erestor, wrapping his arm around him and whispering, “You needn’t bear this burden alone, mellon nín.”

He half-expected Erestor to protest the invasion of his personal space, but the counsellor was completely pliant in his arms. When Glorfindel glanced down, he saw tears slowly paving a trail along the finely sculpted cheek.

“How can you even make such an offer after what I said to you?” Erestor asked quietly.

A smile tugged at Glorfindel’s lips. “Let me tell you a story,” he began, gently intertwining his fingers with his companion’s, “one that I believe will help you to understand.” When Erestor made no move to pull away, he continued, “A long time ago, many years after Imladris was established, a distinguished scholar joined Lord Elrond’s staff. He was beautiful beyond measure, and all the un-bonded Eldar in the Valley looked upon him with great desire — me included. This scholar had a very contentious nature, however, one that deterred most from seeking him out. There were whispers that he’d come from Mirkwood, which, of course, explained a great deal,” Glorfindel added facetiously.

Was that the beginning of an oh-so-very-tiny grin on Erestor’s face?

Biting back a chuckle, Glorfindel quietly continued. “I took it upon myself to get to know this rather prickly individual. I was so supremely confident in my ability to woo, that I estimated less than a week’s time would pass before I would have every square inch of his body catalogued. How very wrong I was…” he trailed off. “The first time I approached him — in his chambers, mind you, whereupon I extended a friendly invitation to join me in the Hall of Fire for a glass or two of fine Dorwinion Red — a broken broom handle was promptly shoved at me, and I was told in very explicit terms where I should put it.”

Yes, that was definitely a smile, though Erestor was trying valiantly to hold it back.

“From that moment onward, I decided two could play that game,” Glorfindel told him. “I took every opportunity I could to annoy or likewise embarrass this individual. I remember replacing his official reports several times with very bad poetry that I’d had great fun composing after several nights spent deep in my cups — Lord Elrond did catch me on that, by the way. I also remember tainting his wine with ample amounts of Valerian Root the night we hosted a feast in honor of the Lord and Lady of Lothlórien when last they visited.”

The counsellor snorted quietly. “I fell asleep on my dinner plate.”

“Before he’d even taken his first bite,” Glorfindel clarified, continuing the narrative in third person. “I was duly reprimanded for that, as well. Yet, no matter how much time I spent in the company of this scholar, he remained an enigma. Though I never truly disliked him, any ideas I had of us enjoying friendship — or more — appeared to be lost very early on. I held a great deal of respect for his position and invaluable counsel, but his dour personality was simply too far removed from my own. Our relationship became one of tense formality. All that changed one fateful day, however, deep in the gardens of Imladris.”

At those words, the counsellor shifted so that he was lying on his back. Glorfindel searched his expression, expecting to see a touch of the usual annoyance swirling in those dark eyes, but there was none — only curiosity. Encouraged, he resumed his tale, eager to finally share this very special memory with Erestor.

“I’d just returned from a very long and difficult patrol on that day,” he said. “Yrch had tested us more than once over the course of several weeks. There had been injuries. And mistakes, the responsibility of which had fallen on my shoulders as Captain of the Guard. I’d wanted to clear my mind before reporting to Lord Elrond, so I’d sought a moment’s peace in the gardens.

“After strolling through the labyrinthine hedges for a time, I came across a most remarkable scene. There, in the very center, by our Lady’s favorite fountain, stood the scholar in question. As I was not in the mood to risk provoking his ire in any way, I’d been about to turn and leave when I realized he was not alone. The sound of laughter rang through the air, and that’s when I caught sight of Elladan and Elrohir — a very young Elladan and Elrohir — running about, playing. Unlike most everyone else in Imladris, the twins showed no hesitation whatsoever in approaching the scholar. Indeed, they all but jumped into his arms, pulling him down onto the grass with them. I’d expected to hear a harsh reprimand or, at the very least, a flurry of displeasure over stained clothes or whatnot. Do you know what I saw instead?” he asked.

Erestor’s brows furrowed, as though trying to recall that particular incident. When recognition failed to appear in his expression, his gaze sought Glorfindel’s once more.

Grinning, Glorfindel finally revealed, “For the very first time, I saw that scholar smile. It was the most extraordinary sight I had witnessed in all my years, the way his face brightened with happiness. And when he embraced the twins, his laughter joining their own, I realized he was every bit as beautiful within as he was without. My heart, at that very moment, was utterly and irretrievably lost to him,” he finished.

A sheen of fresh tears glistened in Erestor’s eyes. “That is why you’ve continued to pursue me?”

Glorfindel nodded, his smile widening. “I thought perhaps if I countered your cantankerousness with charm and respect, that you would eventually recognize the sincerity of my feelings. That did not come to pass as I’d hoped, but I remained steadfast nonetheless.”

Erestor closed his eyes, a pained expression crossing his face. “And now? After all the centuries of harsh words and accusations… after all this?” he asked, gesturing blindly towards the spring.

“I would pledge myself to you here and now if you would have me,” Glorfindel avowed. “Eternally.”

“ _Pledge_ …” Erestor whispered, the word twisting around his tongue like a bitter concoction. “I’ve heard that before.”

Sensing the gravity of this particular transition, Glorfindel gave the hand he held a gentle squeeze and offered, “I’m a very good listener.”

The counsellor pinned him with an intense stare, a myriad of emotions caught in his dark eyes, the most prevalent of which was genuine pain. “There is not much to tell, really,” he began. “I was very young and very naïve — naïve enough to believe what was told to me without question. Deception was the tactic of enemies, not fellow Eldar whose solidarity was supposed to form a barrier of protection against all things that cause harm.”

A wash of guilt settled in Glorfindel’s gut. Granted, none of the antics he’d engaged in over the centuries with Erestor as his target could be called cruel, but he never would have plotted them at all had he realized the depth of the counsellor’s misery. “You were in love,” he guessed.

“Love is such a simple term to describe what I felt,” Erestor replied wistfully. “I showered him with gifts and affection; I sang to him — and I am no Lindir; I wrote poetry and personal histories depicting his glory on the battlefield… and when he pledged himself to me under a moonlit sky, I gave him all of my heart and body and soul. I gave him everything I was, for I am incapable of offering anything less to another.”

Glorfindel nodded lightly, now understanding why Erestor would never have been interested in a casual tryst, even between friends. The counsellor was hardly an oddity. Glorfindel knew of others whose personal beliefs or sensitive nature precluded sharing themselves fully outside of the bonds of marriage. All of those had found great happiness with their bonded mates, however. Obviously Erestor’s situation had turned out much, much differently.

“What happened, mellon,” Glorfindel whispered.

Erestor’s gaze grew distant. He remained silent for a while before finally saying, “I awakened in the clearing where we’d made love. It was nearly dawn, and I was alone. After bathing in a stream, I made for the barracks, knowing that was the only place he would have gone at such an early hour. As it turns out, there was quite the celebration happening within, the sounds of which could be heard all the way from the courtyard.

“I remember smiling, believing the good cheer was somehow related to my bonding with Celírithil. It never occurred to me to wonder why he hadn’t asked me to join him. I simply wandered in, ready to make merry…”

The expression on Erestor’s face grew heavy with anguish before he continued, “The guardsmen were drowning themselves in the local vintage and shouting toasts in Celírithil’s honor. As before, I believed them to be felicitations. When one of them caught sight of me in the doorway, however, he began to roar with laughter. Others soon followed until the entire building nearly shook with their merriment. I looked to the one who I thought was my mate, only to find him caught in the same wave of hilarity.”

Another tear rolled down the counsellor’s cheek, many more pooling in his eyes. Glorfindel gently wiped it away and then rested his hand on Erestor’s chest, right above his heart. “They were not celebrating a bonding,” he said, already guessing where the story was leading.

“I had turned away all previous offers for comfort or gratification; I’d sought a mate, not a casual lover. In light of my peculiar nature, as they called it, the lot of them had issued a challenge — _a challenge_ — offering a substantial amount of coin to the Elda who first managed to bed the one who they said couldn’t be bedded. They’d reduced my heart and my feelings to nothing more than a dare.”

Tears gathered in Glorfindel’s own eyes as he listened to the distress in Erestor’s tone. “How old were you when this happened?”

The counsellor’s gaze found his own. “I was seventy-three.”

By Eru… No wonder the experience had affected Erestor so deeply. He’d barely been past his majority, and this had no doubt been his very first love.

“That was the day I laid down my sword for the last time,” Erestor continued, “and picked up a quill. I found solace amongst the tomes and scholars of Lindon’s vast library, all of whom offered me quiet respect instead of derision.”

“Lindon?” Glorfindel asked, his eyes widening in surprise. “I thought you hailed from Mirkwood?”

Erestor shook his head. “I was born in Lindon and served, however briefly, in Gil-galad’s guard. When Oropher and his people left for Greenwood the Great, I followed, eager to be free of the scornful stares and taunting comments that had been leveled at me over the years.”

Glorfindel paused, reflecting. “Elrond was the High King’s herald. He would have known what happened…” That would explain why he’d received such scathing lectures from the Lord of Imladris each time he’d dared to torment poor Erestor, even in harmless fun.

“Elrond did his best to shield me, and for that I will be forever grateful. When he offered me a position in his court in Imladris, I accepted without hesitation. I knew I would find peace there, with him as my leader.” A wry grin tugged at Erestor’s lips before he finished, “I mostly found peace, in any case…”

Chuckling softly, Glorfindel said, “For what it’s worth, I meant you no disrespect.”

“I know you didn’t. I was an easy target, and the fault for that rests solely on my own shoulders.”

Glorfindel’s mirth dissipated quickly as he observed the object of his affection. The tear-stained face and weary expression were heartbreaking to take in. He cupped Erestor’s cheek gently. “What they did to you in Lindon was unconscionable, mellon nín, and I deeply regret adding to your woes. I now understand the reasons behind your distance, but I want you to know that you needn’t wander through this life alone. I may have pledged you my heart, but I would be supremely honored to share friendship with you, if that is all you care to offer. In me, you will always have a shoulder to lean on or an ear in which to confide.”

Erestor’s smile broadened, and Glorfindel was quite certain it made the entire cavern much brighter. “Thank you,” he whispered.

“For now,” the warrior said, “let me just hold you. I will guard your dreams so you can rest and heal.”

After a moment’s pause, Erestor shifted so they were spooned together once more. Drawing up both sets of bedroll covers, Glorfindel made sure his companion was cocooned in warmth and kindness — things that had been sadly missing in Erestor’s life for a very long time. Sighing happily, Glorfindel breathed in the scent that was uniquely Erestor’s, feeling more content than he could ever remember. He felt his companion’s hand clasp his own as he finally slipped into reverie, the shelter around them falling silent once more.

Many hours later, Glorfindel’s awareness slowly began to return. There was no way to tell what time of day or night it was, but he felt rested enough to assume that Anor had risen. And that’s when he felt it…

…the barely there touch of fingertips underneath his tunic, gently exploring the contours of his back.

Glorfindel shuddered, consciousness reasserting itself as quickly as his lifeblood rushed to his groin. A soft, broken moan slipped past his lips before he could stop it. Sometime during their rest, Erestor had turned over; he was now completely snuggled against Glorfindel, face to face, their legs entwined, and his right arm encircling the warrior’s waist. Uncertain whether Erestor was fully aware of his actions, Glorfindel slowly disentangled himself and rolled onto his back. Should his companion suddenly awaken, he certainly didn’t wish for his arousal to be plainly obvious.

Much to his surprise, Erestor pushed himself up and followed Glorfindel’s movements until the counsellor had straddled his hips. With the lower halves of their bodies in such close proximity, there was absolutely no denying that Erestor was as equally affected as he was. The counsellor’s expression was cause for some concern, however. He looked apprehensive, and that gave Glorfindel pause.

Those beautiful dark eyes gazed deeply into his own as Erestor spoke. “I have long admired you, Glorfindel of Gondolin,” he whispered. “I have watched you woo so many, your charisma drawing both ellyn and ellith to you like moths to a flame. How I wished I could be the recipient of your charming smiles and your gentle, flirtatious touches. But, I couldn’t… I couldn’t allow that to happen, knowing you would undoubtedly move on if I were to welcome you into my bed. I did not believe your heart could be won, but that did not stop the deep, abiding affection that blossomed for you in my own. I wanted so much to tell you that I loved you…”

Glorfindel sat up, gathering his companion close until their foreheads touched. “Oh, Erestor…”

“I would freely hand you my heart,” Erestor continued, “with the hope that you would cherish such a gift.”

“I would, meleth. You have my solemn word,” Glorfindel whispered back.

“Should my trust be betrayed… again…” the counsellor trailed off, his voice overwhelmed with emotion, “…I would shatter.”

Glorfindel placed the gentlest of kisses against Erestor’s brow. “I pledge to you my heart and soul, Erestor of Lindon, and my undying devotion. You will never again feel alone or unloved.”

Erestor wrapped his arms around him then, the embrace filled with such heart-wrenching desperation that Glorfindel fought back tears. He didn’t even wish to think about how long Erestor had gone without the comforting touch of a simple friend much less a lover. No one should ever endure such isolation. That Erestor had survived this long without fading from loneliness was a testament to his inner strength.

Pulling his companion even closer, Glorfindel spent many minutes simply holding him, cradling the back of Erestor’s head with one hand while the other offered soothing caresses. It wasn’t long before the counsellor resumed his earlier tactile exploration, though, shifting the atmosphere towards something decidedly more arousing. Carefully, Glorfindel matched that tone, gauging each and every one of Erestor’s responses to be absolutely certain he was ready for this deeper level of intimacy. He needn’t have worried; the beautiful ellon in his arms shuddered at the feel of his teasing fingers and pressed a kiss against Glorfindel’s neck, wringing yet another breathy moan from the depths of his soul.

Smiling, Glorfindel shifted them both until he was lying atop Erestor. He gazed intently into his lover’s eyes, and for the very first time, he saw hope and affection rather than the usual anger or despair. It humbled him immensely to know he was the object of such avid emotion. Unable to hold back any longer, Glorfindel leaned down and captured Erestor’s lips. It began as a gentle, almost reverent touch that very quickly grew heated. Tongues playfully battled for dominance while eager fingers explored all the uncharted territory that could be reached beneath tunics and hosen. When Glorfindel finally pulled away, he was delighted at the sight of Erestor’s kiss-swollen lips, still slightly parted. The unconscious display was incredibly arousing. How in Eru’s name could anyone have abused such a beautiful and passionate Elda?

Glorfindel felt his lover tug gently at his tunic. Taking the cue, he sat up, kneeling over Erestor, while he pulled the garment over his head. Almost immediately, he felt Erestor’s hands mapping the planes of his chest, gliding over well toned muscles... downward… until they rested quite brazenly on the bulge at the front of his hosen. Glorfindel chuckled as he was caressed and squeezed. His hands covered Erestor’s, encouraging the stimulation for a few seconds longer before he shied away from the touch. Then he grasped the bottom of his lover’s tunic and drew it up. The sight of Erestor arching his back to allow the clothing to be removed was nearly Glorfindel’s undoing. Did the counsellor even realize how sensual he was? Every movement, every shallow breath… every heavy-lidded gaze set Glorfindel’s heart afire with love and overwhelming need.

When he’d pulled off Erestor’s tunic, Glorfindel leaned in for another kiss, teasing his lover’s lips with gentle nips and licks until Erestor finally held his face and forcibly deepened the kiss, tongues entwining once more. Gathering one of his lover’s legs, Glorfindel lifted and held it against his side, the move allowing him to settle more closely within the cradle of Erestor’s thighs. He then pressed their clothed groins together, undulating slowly and deliberately while Erestor scrabbled for purchase on any surface he could reach: Glorfindel’s back and arms… the long, golden hair… his own legs… eventually settling on fistfuls of the bedroll beneath them.

Hearing his lover’s soft mewls of pleasure, Glorfindel quickened the pace, his lips wandering down the side of Erestor’s jaw. He focused his attention on the smooth and sensitive skin of his lover’s neck, offering soft butterfly kisses that traced a line all the way to the tip of the counsellor’s ear. Erestor shuddered when that particularly sensitive area was fully engulfed by his willing mouth and teased relentlessly until Erestor, squirming with laughter, pushed him away. Undeterred, Glorfindel quickly sought his next target, zeroing in on the pale nipples that had tightened so beautifully.

Again and again, Glorfindel rocked against his lover, working Erestor into a frenzy of whispered pleas. When the counsellor began to tremble in earnest, Glorfindel sat up and dragged the loose hosen off of Erestor’s legs, leaving him gloriously bare. The sight was breathtaking. Glorfindel had found his lover’s form more than pleasing during their bath in the spring, but now… Erestor, fully aroused, was quite magnificent to behold.

Grinning, Glorfindel gazed intently at his lover, his hands running gently up and down the skin of Erestor’s chest. “I can hear all the whisperings now,” he breathed, repeating his lover’s own words from earlier in the evening. “All the tittering and fingers pointed in your direction…” He slid downward between Erestor’s bent legs, kissing the inside of other’s thigh. “But let them wonder, meleth nín,” he continued. “Let them wonder at the secretive smile you’ll wear… Let them wonder what it is that colors your cheeks such an endearing shade of rose.” Glorfindel leaned in to nibble at the skin of Erestor’s midriff, his gaze never straying from that of his lover. “ _Let them wonder_ …”

Glorfindel inched his mouth sideways, taking the whole of his lover’s arousal into his mouth. He heard Erestor’s startled cry, felt the hands weaving through his hair and the hips that surged against him repeatedly, and he welcomed it all. It was intoxicating and exciting beyond words to love Erestor like this, to give the kind of pleasure so long denied him. Glorfindel laved and tongued, hollowing his cheeks as he slid along the generous shaft again and again. His fingers drew ticklish patterns on Erestor’s skin while his lover writhed in ecstasy. The impassioned sounds he heard were music to Glorfindel’s ears. He listened raptly, never once slowing his onslaught, until Erestor’s voice reached a crescendo and he climaxed, nearly doubling over backwards.

Glorfindel closed his eyes, accepting the warm seed that spilled down his throat. When the crisis had passed, he released the limp organ, and used soft whispers and gentle hands to soothe the trembling body of his lover, who finally urged him up for another kiss. This one was slow and sweet, eventually melting into quiet laughter and tears of happiness.

He stroked Erestor’s face. “Are you well, meleth?”

His lover smiled — a sight Glorfindel would never tire of seeing — and said, “For the very first time, I feel whole. And loved… very loved.”

“That is because you are,” Glorfindel offered, planting another kiss on those irresistible lips.

Erestor playfully nudged him. “You are wearing entirely too many clothes.”

“Indeed, I am,” he grinned. “I shall remedy that at once.”

Glorfindel stood and slowly pulled off his hosen, all the while pinning his lover with a seductive leer. Erestor looked so impossibly beautiful lying before him, flushed with excitement. He wanted to memorize this moment and carry it with him forever.

Erestor eyed him appreciatively as he padded to his haversack and sifted through its contents. With a triumphant grin, Glorfindel pulled out his vial of grapeseed oil. The light substance worked wonders for cleaning and conditioning weapons, but that was the furthest thing from his mind. It was the oil’s _other_ convenient uses that made his member twitch in anticipation.

Turning back to his lover, he took in Erestor’s bright smile. “May I be inside you, meleth?” Glorfindel asked as he crossed the last few steps to where Erestor lay.

In response, Erestor pulled his legs up in a show of complete trust. Glorfindel drew in a shaky breath as he kneeled, unable to resist peppering kisses along the backside of his lover’s thighs. Uncorking the vial, he drizzled a little of the oil along Erestor’s chest, and then proceeded to massage him, paying special attention to those spots that made the counsellor squirm. Eventually, his fingers made their way down to Erestor’s groin, where he spent a good deal of time stroking the spent member and heavy sac that lay just beneath. He worked slowly and attentively until his lover grew hard once more.

“Oh, please…” Erestor breathed.

Glorfindel smiled, pouring a much more liberal amount of the oil into his hand. With the lightest of touches, Glorfindel teased his lover’s tiny rosebud, swirling and tickling, until the reluctant muscle finally gave way and let him enter. Erestor groaned and quivered as Glorfindel’s finger slid all the way inside. He prepared the passage well, taking care to be sure it was stretched and well lubricated. Glorfindel also made sure the hidden pleasure gland was gently awakened, leaving Erestor a trembling mass of incoherent murmurs and moans.

Coating his length with the remaining oil, Glorfindel placed Erestor’s legs over his shoulders. He leaned down for another kiss, whispering, “Are you ready to join with me, meleth?”

Erestor grinned and nipped lightly at his lips. Glorfindel needed no further prompting than that. Aligning himself, he slowly pressed inside, allowing ample time for his lover’s body to adjust to the intrusion. Erestor’s eyes slid shut, his mouth falling open, but there was no sign of pain written in his expression — only bliss.

Glorfindel set a slow pace at first, moving gently, but as his pleasure built, he rocked with more force, adjusting the angle of his thrusts until Erestor cried out, grabbing his shoulders for support. Chuckling softly, Glorfindel focused on hitting his lover’s sweet spot while skillful fingers teased Erestor’s nipples. Within minutes, they were both straining and gasping, the air filled with the rapturous sounds of two lovers sharing heated passion. Glorfindel grasped Erestor’s length and began pumping. He was so close to the edge of ecstasy, and he wanted his beloved to tumble with him. It only took a few strokes before Erestor stiffened, a desperate wail caught on his lips as his seed fell in quick, heated spurts across his chest. The feel of his lover tightening around him drew Glorfindel’s climax out as well. They both shuddered and groaned, and then laughed as they fell into a tangle of arms, legs, and eager lips.

They lay together for a long time afterward, sharing kisses and quiet words of love. Eventually, they found their way back into the spring where they washed away all traces of their intimacy. Even there, buoyed in the warm water, they couldn’t remain separated, hands and lips still quietly affirming the bond they had formed. When they finally exited and dried off, Glorfindel checked the progress of Erestor’s wound, which was nearly fully healed. A second application of poultice was deemed unneeded.

Dressing themselves after said examination proved to be an unexpected challenge, much to Glorfindel’s delight. A single sidelong glance from his lover, followed by the material of Erestor’s hosen being pulled up oh-so-slowly, led to a ridiculously large pile of torn clothing and yet another round of passionate lovemaking. Never in all his years would Glorfindel have guessed the counsellor could be such a tease…

As they had nothing else clean amongst their belongings, they both ended up donning the same garments they’d worn on arrival, all of which were still a bit moist. That did little to dampen their spirits, however. Glorfindel whistled cheerfully as he went to assess the weather conditions outside, and when he returned, he noticed Erestor was smiling to himself as well.

“’Tis a mild day,” Glorfindel declared. “Anor has reached his zenith, and his rays are warm and inviting.”

Erestor nodded. “Good. We should be able to reach the Valley in time for last meal.”

“We should take time to eat something here,” Glorfindel suggested. “We’ve had quite the workout, and so far as I saw, you ate nothing last evening.”

Erestor looked up from where he’d been packing their bedrolls. “We can nibble on lembas along the way. I am eager for a hot meal and my own bed.”

“What does your bed feel like, I wonder?” Glorfindel considered with a cheeky grin.

Smiling, Erestor replied, “The sooner we leave here, the sooner you will find out.”

Instead of helping to sort their things, Glorfindel remained rooted in place, gazing at his lover with the sweetest of smiles. Erestor eventually felt the warrior’s stare and looked back up at him. “Is something the matter, meleth?”

“Have you any idea how much I love you?”

Erestor’s face flushed at the pleasing admission. He stopped what he was doing and slowly approached Glorfindel. “I have waited a very long time to hear those words. Part of me believed I never would.”

Glorfindel pulled him into a warm embrace, whispering, “So long as I still walk these lands, you will always be loved and treasured.” He punctuated the vow with a gentle kiss. “Now let us go home so that I may ravish your lips in the main courtyard for all to see.”

Erestor’s gaze hardened, a bit of the churlish counsellor returning to the fore. “You will do no such thing.”

Arching a brow, Glorfindel grinned lasciviously…

****

~ * ~ finis ~ * ~

**Author's Note:**

> Sindarin Translations  
> Narbeleth = October  
> Yrch = orcs  
> mellon nín = my friend  
> mellon = friend  
> Rhîw = winter  
> ellon = male elf  
> Elda/Eldar = elf/elves  
> meleth = love  
> meleth nín = my love  
> Anor = the sun  
> ellyn = male elves  
> ellith = female elves
> 
> Quenya Translations  
> hröa and fëa = body and soul


End file.
